


(Shall We) Play a Game?

by yunganti



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Breathplay, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Comeplay, Dom Steve, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, M/M, Oral Sex, Ownership, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sub Bucky Barnes, Subspace, idk - Freeform, idk i'm not good at tagging, just a little, sub bucky, vintage loving gay bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunganti/pseuds/yunganti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d been doing this since they were kids. Well, not this exactly; this particular instance was new.<br/>“I respect ya, Stevie. I’ll listen to you. You wanna feel strong, in control? I can do that for you. Control me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Shall We) Play a Game?

They’d been doing this since they were kids. Well, not  _this_  exactly; this particular instance was new, something that had been bubbling between them for longer than either of them knew. But the kissing thing, the making time, they’d been doing it since they were no more than fifteen. They’d loved each other even longer.

This new thing, their new game, had started after a scuffle outside the queer bar a couple blocks down; limping home together, Steve’d been loudly lamenting, booze and a brawl making him loose and untethered, letting his mouth run while his brain lagged behind.

“I just hate feelin’ powerless, y’know?” he’d complained. Bucky’d tried to shush him, press a finger to his lips and tell him different, but Steve wouldn’t have it. “I ain’t strong, ‘n’ people don’t respect me, don’t  _listen_  to me. I can’t make people respect me, an’ I can’t even control my own damn body - it’s always acting up one way ‘r the other and there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it.” 

They’d walked the rest of the way home in silence; It wasn’t until Steve was fumbling with the key, Bucky getting handsy, that he’d leaned down to whisper in Steve’s ear, all unsubtle seduction and earnest eagerness

“I respect ya, Stevie. I’ll listen to you. You wanna feel strong, in control? I can do that for you. Control me.”

They’d fucked after that, same way they always fucked after a fight and a night out, but it’d been  _different_. And the rest, they say, is history.

Now, Bucky’s laid out long across the width of their shared bed (saved from after Mrs Rogers had passed; she’d turn in her grave if she saw the things this bed’d seen since), naked save for his skivvies and his socks, his cock swollen hard and aching, his lips tingling. Steve’s standing at the bedside between Bucky’s knees, his hair mussed and his shirtsleeves rolled up, big hands resting on his little hips, hint of a scowl on his face - and God, isn’t he just the picture of perfection, blushing all down his neck like that.

Bucky’d be lying if he said he’d offered this, instigated it, out of pure selflessness; truth is, same way Steve needs to feel strong, Bucky wants to feel weak. He likes the way he don’t have to be strong here, the way Steve’s clever hands can make him feel torn open and vulnerable. It’s only when he’s on his knees in front of Steve does Bucky feel like, for a time, he doesn’t have to protect Steve. Not when they’re here, like this. 

“C’mere, Shirley Serious,” Bucky says, grinning like a loon, before he lunges forward to grab Steve by the belt and haul him bodily onto the bed, so he’s got Steve kneeling over him. There’s something dizzying about being flat on his back, looking up at Steve, and it makes something low in his belly clench up in the best way. The sharp sting of Steve’s hand meeting his right cheek (though they’re well acquainted by now, after so many nights like this one) is worth it.

“Don’t call me Shirley.” No matter how disappointed, how absolutely pissed Steve can manage to sound, he can never dull the twinkle in his eye, the slight quirk of his lips that tells Bucky he loves this game of theirs - though the way Steve’s dick is pressed up hard against his fly ain’t a bad hint, either. “What’d I tell you about touching without permission?”

Bucky turns his head to the left, eyes downcast, playing his part. “Sorry, Sir.” Steve’s hand comes to his throat, puts pressure there, not nearly enough.

“Say it. What’d I tell you?”

Buck opens his mouth to say it - no touching without permission, not Steve, not anything Steve owns, and that includes  _you_ , Barnes - but he doesn’t get the chance before Steve is pressing down, applying a steadily growing force to Bucky’s neck, and he can’t  _breathe_ , nevermind speak, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. As he does, Steve’s free hand ghosts over Bucky’s chest, deceptively gentle ‘til it finds it’s target; Bucky’s peaked left nipple. He takes it between his finger and his thumb (God bless those clever hands of his) and pinches,  _pulls_ , hard enough to have Bucky howling, if he could  _breathe_. 

A second later and he’s gasping for breath, and he can feel that familiar hazy feeling that has nothing to do with lack of air; he’s gunna do whatever Steve wants, be good for Steve, so good. He digs his hands into the quilt (thoughtfully spread out to catch the inevitable mess of their game), balls them into fists, anchors them there. “No touching you. No touching what’s yours, not without permission.”

It earns him a rough pat on his still-stinging cheek before one of Steve’s hands - the kid’s like a puppy, paws too big for the rest of him - is settled, squeezing, thumb dug in to one side of Bucky’s jaw, fingers into the other. He gives Bucky’s head a playful little shake like this; his smile would be cruel if there weren’t that too-tender fondness in his eyes. 

“And what’s mine? What belongs to me?”

“I do.” 

“Right.” Steve’s hand finds his own cock, then, giving it a long, slow stroke through the fabric of his slacks; draws Bucky’s attention to the thickness of it, the fullness, only alluded to by the shape it makes against the fabric. God, Bucky loves that cock, knows it as well as his own, but to tease him with it like that, keep it just out of touch, out of sight, it makes him crazy for it in ways he could never have imagined. He watches Steve’s hand move over it, slow, graceful (that’s about the only graceful thing about him), distracted.

He’s just thinking about begging for it, for just a peek, just a little taste, when he’s gasping again - Steve’s wrapped a hand around Bucky’s dick, and he’s squeezing, tight enough to hurt and it feels so good. Something low and needy slips from Bucky’s mouth, just as Steve asks: “And whose is this?”

Bucky shifts his hips, tries to fuck up into Steve’s fist, but it’s no use, the grip is too tight; all his efforts earn him is another swift slap that sets his world spinning, has his head lolling to the side. Steve gives Buck’s dick an insistent shake.

“Yours. It’s yours,” Bucky says. What he means is ‘I’m all yours, everything I am is yours, I belong to you, I am you and you’re me and we belong to each other and I love you, I’m all yours, make me  _yours’,_ but Steve seems satisfied none the less. It earns Bucky a pat on the cheek and a peck on the lips, and he wants more, he wants  _Steve_ ; his fists uncurl from the blankets, but only momentarily - he has to wait for permission, he has to be good for Steve, Steve’s in control here.

“That’s right.”

Bucky’d swear he was dead, died and gone to heaven, if what they were doing weren’t down right dirty as hell (Steve would make an awful angel, anyway). As it is, there’s no place else he’d rather be, not now, when he can hear the jangle of Steve’s belt buckle and watch Steve draw out his hard dick, feel Steve’s knees come to bracket his face. Bucky’s all too eager to open his mouth, take Steve’s cock on his tongue like communion and swallow it down, all the way to the back of his throat.

“That’s it, Buck, take it all. You want it bad, don’t ya? Don’t choke yourself on it, that ain’t very becoming.”

Of their own accord, Bucky’s hands have risen to hover at Steve’s sides, a silent request, seeing as his mouth is otherwise occupied; but Steve’s always so good, will always give Bucky what he asks for if he asks (all Bucky ever has to do is ask). 

“Go ahead, you big lug, you can touch.”

Bucky let’s out a muffled groan around Steve’s cock as his hands come to settle on Steve’s bony hips; not guiding, just touching, feeling the way Steve moves as he starts to thrust into Bucky’s mouth. 

Steve ain’t gentle about it, - Buck’s never quite sure if Steve’s just playing his part, or if he’s just overeager - but after a couple shallow, testing strokes, Steve’s humping his face, fucking his mouth with abandon. It never takes Steve long to go off when they do it like this, his dick bumping the back of Bucky’s throat and making him gag, just a little, but even so, by the time Steve pulls out to paint Bucky’s face with cum, Bucky’s a gasping mess; his eyes have teared up and spilled over from the choking, and his face is smeared with saliva. 

A little of Steve’s jizz gets up Bucky’s nose, and Bucky waves Steve off, sits up to blow it out - “Here, here, Buck, let me -”- before he gives Steve a thumbs up and that grin he knows Steve loves; it’s gotta be obscene, with Steve’s cum smeared over his chin and cheeks, but Steve smiles back all the same, and it’s back to the game.

Steve gives Bucky a good shove, hard as he can manage, and Bucky’s laid out on his back again - Steve’s still smiling, even as he uses his thumb to smear his cum over Bucky’s face, gathering it and pushing it into his mouth. Bucky’s groaning, hips lifting off the bed, fists once again planted firmly at his sides. 

Bucky’s eyes are squeezed shut, he can barely hear Steve over his own frustrated moan, but he does hear him; “You wanna come, Buck?”

Steve’s gotta know he’s been waiting, is stalling, just to torture him. He nods, groans, and gets a hard, well-aimed slap on the head of his cock; he definitely wakes a neighbor or two then.

“ _Fuck!_ Fuck, fuck, fuck...”

Another slap, lighter, but just as well-aimed. “Language.” Stifled laughter; Steve can be a real prick sometimes, but maybe that’s what makes this work. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Bucky’s floundering for a moment - he’s forgotten his part, all he can think of is cock, hard and aching and so fucking  _hard_ , he wants to come, he’s gotta get Steve to let him come - “Please, Stevie, lemee come,  please,  _please_ , I wanna come, I wanna come, please-”

He gasps when Steve, in one fell swoop, yards down his underpants and takes Bucky’s cock in his mouth (it seems that all Steve ever does is take Bucky’s breath away, make him gasp), hands firm on his hips; Buck ain’t allowed to move when they do it like this, another rule of the game. He doesn’t wanna find out what happens if he breaks that rule, he’s so close now he might die if Steve stops sucking him. Steve’s playing with his balls as he sucks, pressing his (clever, so fucking clever) fingers into the space behind them, his other hand digging fingers into the meat of Bucky’s ass, and it’s so good, he’s at Steve’s mercy, Steve’s got him in every way imaginable and it’s so, so good. 

Steve crawls up the bed to spit Bucky’s load right back on his face as Bucky lies there, panting, fists still white-knuckling Steve’s ma’s quilt. Bucky’s floating now, the fog is thick and his brain is full of fuzzy static in the best of ways; he whines when Steve gets up off the bed, and sighs happily when Steve returns with a damp washcloth to lave over Bucky’s face. 

Steve coos, whispers nonsense to him as he cleans Bucky up, coaxing him to roll onto his side so Steve can strip and then curl himself around Bucky from behind; Bucky knows Steve likes this part, too, the taking care, just as much as he needs everything else, and Bucky needs this part, just as much as he likes all the other parts. 

They lie like that for a long time afterward, Steve murmuring in his ear as the fog in Bucky’s brain starts to clear. 

“Did I hurt you?” Steve whispers between gentle kisses to Bucky’s ear.

Bucky rolls over, grinning sleepily; he runs a hand over Steve’s side, feather-light. “Yeah.”

Steve’s face falls, for a moment, until he sees Bucky’s grin widen; he laughs, socks Bucky square in the chest - “You jerk!” - and then kisses him silly. 

The game may be new, but some things never change. 

**Author's Note:**

> I basically banged this out in ~3 hours on an impulse, and it came out alright. It's basically just cleverly disguised wish fulfillment. I don't have a beta and am not a writer, so it's gunna have typos and shit. But otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it?


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